Addie Mae conducts orchestras
only she can hear. At six weeks
sitting in her bouncy chair,
she is quite the munchkin maestro--
arms flailing crescendos and
sudden diminuendos
with a flair rarely seen in
a prodigy so prodigiously
small. Fingers twitch a tremolo
while toes invite a vibrato
from the dangling things that swing
from the cushioned crescent toy-bar
arched like a ring over her,
jangling time to every move
she makes. She quakes and quivers
with an ecstasy only she
can feel, and with a sudden squeal
brings her symphony crashing
to a colicky cacophony
her audience hears--and fears--
all too well.

© by Mike Orlock.
Used with the author’s permission.